But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. “Who are you?” She asked innocently. Only your pa knew as how I were the one as saw to you at the wet-nurse’s cottage, and he got a-hold of me and made me bring him to you. “And besides,” said Ann Veronica, sweeping that aspect aside, “what could I do? A boy sails out into a trade or profession.
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